Realizations that arrive before the elevator does

Tag Archives: selfcare

Day 36 of my school break. The summer months are somewhat like gas tanks. The first half of the summer seems to go at a reasonable pace. The second part seems much shorter and when you still think you have quite a bit of gas left, the gauge says you are just about at the quarter mark left. Talking about cars and gas tanks and things to do on school vacation, makes me think that I had not planned to spend two of the days addressing flat-ish tires. About two weeks ago, my sensor light came on. Never a good thing. It’s not exactly a hello greeting from my car but rather a “Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!” which means I cannot just go blithely along in my travels. I am now going to have to do something I am not in the mood to do. When the sensor comes on, it is letting me know that the air pressure in one of four tires is low. Just enough info to be annoying, since it doesn’t tell me any more specific information and visually, they all looked just fine to me. I took the car to a place where air is not free and almost two dollars in coins later, I drove away, hopeful to have solved the problem. No such luck as the sensor did not reset. In fact it looked brighter and seemed to be smirking at me. I got my FHB involved and we found a place with “free air” and filled the tires once again. This time the light stayed off, overnight. The next morning we went to our friendly tire place and lo and behold there was a screw used to hold bridges together in the tire. We replaced the tire and all seemed well with our world. A few days ago, while driving to my office, on a road that is under construction, that sensor light came on. I pulled into the parking lot and a different tire seemed to be a bit low on air. I made a pre-emptive call to the tire place and arranged to bring it in, the next morning. I got up at the crack of dawn, since I was an “add-on” and drove myself to the tire place and was greeted warmly. Of course, I saw dollar signs in the service manager’s eyes. I brought a few books, a newpaper, my phone and watched the Today Show while I waited, and waited. The technician appeared with a bolt he said was stuck in my tire. Of course, it was. Probably came out of the Frankenstein’s monster’s neck. I think I saw him walking on the road I drove on. Luckily, it could be plugged (the tire, not the neck). I don’t drink coffee in tire places. I always think the cups smell like rubber. That’s just me.

I made an executive decision to take myself to breakfast. I knew exactly where I wanted to go. I entered the restaurant which is a little gem in Fairhaven, the town across from New Bedford. The town with my favorite library. I ordered a couple of Norwegian pancakes, sausages and good coffee. I had taken the window seat at a table pretty much suited for one with a view of the street. I have had several periods of time in my life when I did things alone. I didn’t have a partner and I liked going to movies on my own, and finding sweet little places to dine, just me, myself and I. I looked out the window and the morning light shone on a young golden retriever across the street. He stood expectantly out the gate and gave low woofs to the passersby. It’s a quiet town and in the early morning, there are a few people on bikes, and some folks walking toward the waterfront. My food appeared, the coffee cup was refilled, I pulled out my copy of Men Without Women, by Murakami and held it close to me. I took some breaths, smiled out the window at the dog, and put a bite of sheer heaven in a pancake in my mouth. Of the things I must do and the things I should do, this became something I delighted in doing.

Don’t jump to conclusions…because you would be completely wrong. However, today, after fifteen years of a relationship built on give and take, flexibility and positive outcomes, I had to move on. Things changed about two months ago. In fact, I was given less than ample warning that we would not be seeing one another anymore. I was told that we’d still keep in touch and nothing would really change. But, you know how that goes, everything changes. I tried to keep going and figure that the changes wouldn’t affect me and I could change and it wouldn’t be different. But it was so different. So, today, I decided when I woke up, that I would take control of my life and I would find someone else, and that over time, it would be okay. I left my old nail technician behind (after she left me) and found someone else. My FHB said, after I called him to tell him that I made the change, in a somewhat sarcastic, snotty tone, ” well, that must have been really difficult” and I could hear the eyes roll and the smirk although we were about forty miles apart. I remember being incredibly supportive when my FHB broke up with his barber after 30 plus years. His barber (who was in Providence, Rhode Island which is about 30 minutes away) gave him a hard time when my FHB was eight minutes late to the appointment. After that incident, which was really the straw that broke the camel’s back as they say, he decided to move on. He started to go to someone locally and it seems like a good fit.

We form relationships with people who see us when we are vulnerable, perhaps not feeling good about ourselves, and need something they can offer like a great mani/pedi or a good haircut. They solve what may be a momentary feeling of self -yuckiness and restore of feelings of looking good and feeling good. It has to be a trusting relationship, after all they are putting hands on you and it should be something that meets your goals and makes you feel better. My person, was someone who I didn’t plan to get involved with. In my line of work, I am listening to people all day trying to be helpful and direct them toward good self care, and so on. So, when I started to go to this nail salon, I thought to myself that we should just keep it cordial, no deep conversations, and certainly not exchange any type of feelings positive or negative. That would be too much like work. So I played it cool and kept the conversation to a minimum. I thought it was like being a waitress and doing that “don’t give them eye contact” thing that they do when you need something like water if you are choking silently and putting up your hand and they don’t “see” you. Then I found out that this person was delightful and had a lot to say and we could talk about movies and recipes and families and we could have a regular meeting every two weeks. It was the perfect “faux” friendship except that I always paid.

Fifteen years later, she moved on. I can’t blame her. There is more out there for her and I get it. However, what or who she left behind, left a lot to be desired. I did not feel cherished or cared about. I didn’t matter. I was just another customer and that was not okay. I gave it a good try but it just didn’t work out. I became critical and I saw the place for what it was, not the people, just a business. Today, I went somewhere else. I was pleasant but not revealing. I was there to get my nails done and they look good. It is the standard I expect. I paid and got what I paid for. I came home and put my hand in front of my FHB’s face and asked him how it looked. He said “It looks like your hand”. Good thing he’s funny. Good for him, that is.

P.S. The shoes showed up. Clearly hiding from me. The sunglasses have not yet revealed themselves.

The radio described this weekend as the “unofficial beginning of summer”. We’ve had a week of rain and cold temperatures. I sit here at home, under a blanket and wearing a fleece jacket. The windows are open and I can hear the rain as the cool air fills the loft. There are eighteen more days to the school year. I have decided to take the weekend off and fill it with movies and perhaps a strawberry rhubarb pie and some down time with my FHB. This is what relaxation is supposed to be and we all do it our own way. The Memorial Day holiday commemorates the day we remember those who died during active military service. Wishing you all a peaceful weekend surrounded by good company. Take a moment to remember those who gave their lives so we can live ours the way we choose.